Dovahsaavik: Master, Leader, Peace Bringer
by Zenii
Summary: The journeying Khajiit, Zenii, is mistakenly captured in an Imperial ambush and is on her way to the block when a mysterious dragon ravages Helgen and carries her away. He tells Zenii that she is a prophesied hero called the Dovahsaavik who will bring equilibrium within Tamriel. Will Zenii escape back to her normal life or make the perilous journey to save the world?
1. Twice Abducted

The situation that I had gotten myself into was rather desperate.

I was exploring Tamriel with the aid of my trusty steed, Ikka. I had made my journey out of Elsweyr, through Valenwood and Cyrodiil, and was ready to voyage into the cold land of Skyrim. I took my last sip of mead at an inn in Bruma, and then opened the door to continue my journey north. My belly was full and chest warm, so I rode comfortably through the ever-colder climate.

"Skyrim!" I cried to the air as I crossed the border. "Land of the Nords, home of the Companions."

But soon I heard a faint noise. An unnatural rustle, a hushed word. I pulled Ikka to a stop.

A wolf, maybe? A skeever? Whatever it was, it unnerved me. More than some animal should.

I crouched and crawled in a stealthy manner towards some scant cover. There was definitely something- or someone -out there. I removed her helmet so that I could hear properly, my tall and pierced ears unfolding from the confines of the leather. An owl hooted. A mouse scapered. An armoured imperial drew his bow.

"You're surrounded, _cat_." he spat. "Hands in the air. Surrender all of your weapons."

Shit.

I unbuckled my dagger and raised my hands slowly. "Please," I begged in a thick Elsweyr accent. "Khajiit is no harm. Zenii will not hurt you."

Two more soldiers approached wielding cuffs. "Not when we have you safely locked up!" one growled. "Pah. Faithless stormcloaks." the other agreed.

"No, you are making a mistake. Zenii is not of the stormcloaks. This one knows nothing of politics."

"You can't trick the Legion." the bow-wielding man smirked. "We know all your tricks. Julius, Olmeric, deal with her. Send her with the rest."

"Yes, sir!"

I sighed. All imperials were like this- thick-skulled and convinced that they were right. As the footsteps approached behind me, I launched myself into the air with my strong Khajiit legs. I grabbed hold of the nearest branch and swung myself on top, as an arrow thudded into the bark where I was a minute ago.

"Ikka!" I called, and my brave mare galloped towards my tree. Timing my movements, I leaped off my bough to land on Ikka's back for freedom. But as I was pushing off, a sudden pain struck my leg and I reflexively jerked, awkwardly falling sideways. I twisted in the air, willing my leg to work, willng Ikka to catch me. But no. I landed hard, and my breath got caught in my throat as my lungs locked up. Breathe, damnit!  
Life shot back into me and I did my best with the injured leg as I struggled upright. Alas, I had taken too long. The bow-wielding soldier pushed me back down and ground my face into the dirt with his boot. The other two caught up and wrenched my hands behind my back, and then a weight hit my head and I fell down, down, down…

A jolt shook me back to life as I realised that I was moving. Rolling? Falling? Blurry trees flew past and I jumped, a shiver spasming through my limbs. My heavy head was resting on someone's shoulder, and I extracted herself embarrasingly as my mind returned.

"Ah! You're awake!" A nordic accented voice broke the silence.

I blinked fog out of my eyes to find a golden haired man with a braid down the side of his face., which was solemn yet sympathetic. "You were trying to cross the border, right?"  
"Yes… A great journey this one was making."

The nord shook his head. "Your journey ends here, I'm afraid. My name is Ralof. The thief next to me is Lokir."

"Gods damn you stormcloaks. I could've been halfway to Hammerfell with that horse!" the dark-haired thief grumbled.  
"Be careful!" Ralof snapped. "You're talking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King!"

Oh, so that's who I fell asleep on. I would have blushed if my fur didn't cover my cheeks.

"Jarl Ulfric? You're the leader of the rebellion!" Lokir exclaimed. "But if they've captured you… Oh gods, where are they taking us!"

"Where do you think?" I sighed, finally getting it. End of the line.

"Oh gods… Shor, Mara, Kynareth, Dibella… Please help me!" he panicked as a town's gates loomed ahead.

"You're not the only one about to die here. Stop talking or this one will have to shut you up herself!" I hissed at the nord, who became sufficiently scared of me to stop talking and shiver instead.

"You do have guts." Ralof remarked. "Especially for a Khajiit."

I nodded at his compliment. "It is easy to be brave in your last moment."

We sat in silence for a minute, until Ralof sneered at a group of elves in graceful robes. "General Tullius, the Military Governor. And it looks like the Thalmor are with him."

"Tch." I agreed. All this talk of war and rightfulness confused me, but Thalmor I understood well. Thalmor were much worse than Imperials, and in many more ways. They looked smugly at the carts destined for death, as if it was a challenge that was won. Quite likely it was.

"I wonder if Vilod's still making that mead…" Ralof was wondering. His face was brave but I could tell that he was trying to cling to life while it lasted.

Finally the carrages stopped one by one by a wall. Lokir was, predictably, extremely panicked as we stood in a group herded by guards.

"When I call your name, step towards the block!" a female soldier, presumably of high position, called.

"Ulfric Stormcloak!"

Ulfric dipped his head towards me and Ralof before walking to the line forming by the executioner.

"Ralof of Riverwood!"

My newest friend stepped sourly away without a glance behind.

"Lokir of Rorikstead!"

Lokir's eyes widened. He had obviously thought that it was all a mistake. He took off screaming and running, which was bad for him when he took an arrow to the back. I watched his body blankly.

"Hey, cat!" the woman called, and I wrenched my attention away.

A kind-looking soldier next to her looked down at his list and then back at me.

"Who are you?"

I lifted my chin. "Zenii of Elsweyr." I said, with as much voice as I could muster.

The soldier looked at the woman. "Captain, what should we do? She's not on the list!"

"Forget the list. She goes to the block."

The soldier looked towards me sympathetically. "I'm sorry. We'll make sure your remains will be returned to Elsweyr."

What a relief. My guts are churning just thinking about my family finding a severed head by their door. I flash my teeth at the captain and turn to join the line.

A red-haired man, dressed the same as Ralof, stepped up the the block. "Just do it already! he snapped. "I haven't got all morning!"

The blade came down and his head clean off, rolling into a fruitbasket. Oh, so funny. Except for the fact that it could - or would - be _my_ head soon.

"Next, the cat!" the captain shouted. As I took my last steps forward, a strange noise echoed in the clouds- an unearthly roar that made me stop in my tracks and all the guards turn their faces upwards. Only the captain was unfazed. "I said, _next prisoner_!"

I took another step toward the block. And another. And another. Time seemed to slow to a standstill as I was forced to the ground and the axe raised, ready to strike. And then something happened. A red-eyed shadow alighted on the roof of the tower in front of me, and a huge force shoved me off of the block and onto the ground. I lay there while people around panicked and ran. Fire flew everywhere around me. A rough arm looped around me and dragged me onto my feet. I panicked, struggling until I realised that it was Ralof.

"Come on! Get into the tower!" he yelled over the mayhem.

The world span as he supported me, dodging fireballs as we ran. I slipped off of his shoulder and tumbled onto a body, banging my arm on something hard. I rolled into a kneel to see it- a dagger hilt buried in a stormcloak's back. I collapsed as I hurled all over the ground. The world span around me and I fell to the floor- or was it the sky? I was spinning, twisting, wind through my fur, covered in blood and muck. Arms curled around me and lifted me up, still lying. Who was this? I opened my eyes and screamed. There were no arms. Only gnarled black claws and the town far below. My arms were pinned to my sides so my struggle went unheard. The dragon carrying me looked down to agnowledge my prescence. Its nose twitched and then wrinkled as it bent down to sniff me, and its red eyes pierced me like a blade. Was this my savior or my death?

The dragon pulled back and drifted slowly downwards, handling me like a precious package. We touched down by a lake and it laid me down gently in the shallows. I scrambled backwards as soon as its grip loosened and started to pull myself upwards to run. It made no effort to attack. Instead it drew back its head and uttered a word.

"Ze-nii."

My jaw dropped open. Dragons could talk? And knew my name? I lost all will to run and all my fear left me.

"How do you know me?" I whispered.

"Dovahsaavik." it replied in its deep, drumlike boom. "Dovahsaavik, mu grind. Zu'u los zin."

"What?"

"Zu'u los hin fahdon… No harm."

"You will not hurt Zenii? Then why did you come?"

"Wah sav hi, faal Dovahsaavik. To save you."

That word again. Dovah-something."Why did you save this one? Zenii is not special."

"Hi los saavik do faal Dovah, jun do joor muz ahrk druniik do drem. Special, very much. Master, leader, peace bringer."

I shook my head and took a few steps backwards.

"No, you have the wrong one!"

"You must be wo zu'u tovit fah- who I search for. I feel the Thu'um from your skin. We meet again soon. Drem, Yol, Lok."

It turned its head to indiciate a direction behind it. "Lohiim do Rathgosvah. Riverwood." it rumbled. "Kos nahlon- we did not talk."

"Wait!" I called as it rose in to the air, wind buffeting me. "What is your name!"

It looked down at me one last time. "Alduin. Feyn do jun, lein nakiin."

And Alduin was gone before I knew it.


	2. The Dark-Haired Nord

I stood at the edge of the lake, ignoring the chill of the water and wind plastering the fur to my back. The lake was long and thin with an island along one end, and a river leading from the other where Alduin had motioned.

"Damn." I swore to myself. The world had started going so fast, and now that it had slowed I almost forgot where I was. I moved to a boulder and sat to inspect what I had with me- not much. While unconscious, my fur armour had been taken and replaced with a thin ragged tunic, tightened around my waist by my old belt which they had decided not to confisticate. Naturally my steel dagger and axe were missing, but my half full water skin and food pouch were not. I realized with a rumble from my stomach that I was hungry, very hungry. Presumably I hadn't eaten since my abduction and that would be- what, five, six meals missed? All that remained in my pouch was a single raw carrot, but I ate it with great gratitude as my stomach's complaining subsided. I would much prefer some meat right now- fresh _or_ cooked- but any food would do for now. I took a sip out of my flask and started the journey along the bank, to Riverwood. I had no idea how far it was, but it couldn't be too far away- Alduin was trying so hard to keep me alive that it would be a pity if I collapsed before I got to the nearest town. But if the maps of Skyrim that I studied back in Cyrodiil taught me anything, then I was not far from Helgen and Riverwood was just a couple of minutes around the corner. So if I headed northwest along the riverbank, I would be within proximity of an inn and a drink very soon.

I hauled my fur up and tramped along the beach. Small rocks cut into my feet and big ones hindered my travels, forcing me to clamber over them in my dogged desire to follow the riverbank. Soon I came across a road and walked over it gratefully. My bare feet, instead of being pummeled, were being gently massaged by the unkept and dirty cobblestones. The gates of Riverwood- or Rathgosvah -were a sight for sore eyes. I trudged into town and instantly felt many eyes on my neck. An old lady was yelling about a dragon, and a golden-haired nord complaining that she was mad. "Really, mother! Dragons haven't been seen in hundreds of years!"

I looked up at him and took a few steps closer.

"The old woman is right." I declared to the town. "A dragon has attacked Helgen."

The few people listening gasped and came running. "Where was it headed? What was it doing?" The noise attracted more, and soon the entire town was gathered around me with worried faces.

"Stop!" I yelled, having enough. "I'll tell you about the dragon. But I need shoes, some clothes, a sleep and a good drink first."

A young woman- Camilla, as she introduced herself -ran off to get me some clothes and boots. She came back with a belted tunic and some buckled boots which I wore gratefully. Delphine, a golden haired breton who worked at the Sleeping Giant Inn, took me inside to a mug of ale and showed me an empty room. I closed my door and tried to ignore the hushed whispers on the other side. Orgnar, the tough Nord who ran the inn along with Delphine, came in and offered me a salmon steak and wedge of cheese.

"Nothing fancy, I'm afraid," he grunted, "But it's all we can give ya. If anyone asks, Delphine talked me into giving you free food. Next time you're paying."

I took the food gratefully and chowed down. "So-" I asked between mouthfuls, "Anything I can do to earn some money? The, uh, circumstances dictated that I was robbed of all my belongings." I felt strangely protective of my memories.

"No jobs at our inn, but Gerdur at the mill will pay for any wood that you chop."

"I guess that's where I'll start tomorrow. I'll get some sleep now."  
"Right." But Orgnar looked reluctant and embarrased as he backed out of my room. "Well- I'll be seeing you tomorrow." he muttered.

Oh, my. I believe that nord likes me.

Morning came too quickly and I was woken by a rooster's crow. The sheets, although rough, warmed me and removed the bone-chilling cold which infected me in the northern provinces. But as much as I would love to rest, there was work to do. With no money to lean on, I was little more than a beggar with strange tidings. So I hauled myself up and tramped across the riverwood bridge to the chopping block. Wood chopping block, that is. Not for the head.

A few brief hours later I counted out the firewood that I had cut and put it where Gerdur motioned.

"Thirty-six slabs of firewood at five septims each… That's a hundred and eighty septims!" she beamed as she counted out money. "Hey- you're that cat who saw the dragon?"

I nodded, refusing to give further explanation.

"You need to warn the Jarl of Whiterun about this- this creature. Look, here's another seventy septims. Bribe the guards if you need to, just make sure that we get some protection."

"Sure. Whiterun is- where?"

She turned and pointed down the road away from where I had come. "Down that road. You'll see it as soon as you cross the hill."

"Right. I'll head straight there." I nodded again to thank her and headed again downriver.


End file.
